


From Paris To Berlin

by FelicitasMadelineGothermore



Category: CountryHumans
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bromance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, France - Freeform, Frenemies, GerFra, Germany, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Platonic Relationships, Political Alliances, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smoking, Swearing, Violence, War Crimes, World War II, bittersweetness, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28320954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicitasMadelineGothermore/pseuds/FelicitasMadelineGothermore
Summary: France has done his best to not let Germany think about his dark past too much eversince they became close friends, but even after a hundred years Germany still feels guilty about what he has done. When he leaves the commemorate ceremony, France is the one to go after him ...This story takes part in a world where every nation / country is a human being!I actually imagined each country to speak their own language (Germany talks in German, France in French and so on) and actually wrote the very first version in three languages but you basically have to be a polygot to understand a single sentence so please just image.Every country speaks their own language, yet they can understand each other's speech and writing. They're just not capable of speaking another language besides their own.i'm not good at this lmao don't attack me, english isn't my first language 😭
Relationships: France/Germany
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> yo.  
> The name's Felix. I don't know shit, neither how to write nor to use this website, but here it is. A GerFra fic (technically they're from the Countryhumans fandom but that shit is terrible, DON'T look it up please) that I'm publishing on this site since I already published it on my wattpad account !  
> This is my own interpretation of the real life - based story of the odd couple Germany and France, in a world full of humanized countries.  
> Check out additional tags for more info etc. If you're here, I'm glad you even found this :D  
> I know there are like, four people out there who actually ship these two, so fellas, this one's for you.  
> * starts playing the piano *

,, Good evening ladies and gentlemen, nations and states! You might all know me, but still, I have to do this, ", America stopped for a second. He was visibly touched.

,, I, the United States of America warmly welcome you to today's event.

Today, on the 8th of May of 2045, we commemorate to the millions of victims that suffered from what is probably considered the worst event in human history - World War II. There will be a funeral service and a commemorative speech by ... those involved. I want you all to never forget that, in spite of all the horror, all of us survived, we're here today and we can come together in peace, and mankind and our will will never be broken. Remember where you come from, remember the past, live in the moment, act for the future.

Those war crimes shall be forgiven, but never forgotten. Thank you all so much.",

Applause like thunder echoed through the halls.

From the corner of his eye, France noticed a shadow rushing over to the exit doors.

He wasn't dumb, in fact he knew very well who had just left the celebration.

A last apologizing look to America who was about to finish his speech, then he turned around and left as well.

Outside, it was raining like the world was about to go down. Dark clouds were hanging from the sky. The cold embraced France, but since he still stood under a small roof attached to the main building, he at least remained dry.

He reached for a pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket of his black jaquett and then slowly stepped next to his closest ally who had crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaning against a small stone wall and starring far away, through the rain. A bouquet of white roses was clamped in of his hands. The whole scene seemed almost calm, yet France knew for sure inside him, it wasn't.

,,Can I have one ?",

Scared by the sudden words, the Frenchman hestitated, then finally handed one of his cigarettes over to the German.

\- ,,Eh, sure.",

Didn't he quit smoking ?

,,You're smoking again ?", France lit his with his lighter.

\- ,, Actually I'm not.", Germany answered and bent over a little bit to reach the small flame with the cigarette wedged between his teeth.

He quietly blew out the smoke into the rain, then his face froze into a bitter grimace.

For a moment, there was silence.

,,You're good?",

Germany looked down onto his shoes.

,, I see what you're doing, you know. I know exactly what you're thinking during these moments.", France eyed him from the side, frowning.

\- ,, And that would be ..?, Germany looked at him.

,, That you're still responsible of everything. But you're wrong. I told you so many times.", 

France looked at the ring on his right hand. It was golden and was shining even on this dark day. The word "Europe "was engraved on it. And Germany wore the same one. It was the ring they both wore every day.

The German shook his head. ,, It's not about understanding ... I can't fucking explain myself.", he harshly rubbed his left temple. ,, I never wanted to get here from the beginning.",

,, Our decency demands us to be here.",

\- ,,Of course, that's not how I meant it.",

,, I know what you want to say. Was a little too much today, huh?",

Silence again.

,,You wanna go there?",

\- ,,I guess it's time, yes.",

,,What about the others? ",

\- ,,Without them. It's enough if you know that I have done it.",

France smiled. ,, ... Alright. Let's go.",

Germany stood up to follow the gravel path onto the graveyard, his cigarette pinned in the corner of his mouth. France followed with respecting distance. Of course, he had forgotten his umbrella inside, so his curly, long blond hair absorbed the heavy rain, just like the fabric of the black suit that hemmed Germanys shoulders.

They stopped infront of a large, plain gravestone. Quietly, as if he didn't want to disturb the silence, Germany gently kneeled down and carefully placed the roses infront of the grave.

France could tell it took Germany a lot of strength to not simply just fall onto his knees and burst.

That was an ability he had always envied him for. The ability not to break, not to collapse even when put under such big stress or pressure, never showing the slightest bit of agony or sorrow in any situation, even during his worst times, but rather just remaining silent and ice cold. Or angry.

He was convinced he had never seen him cry exept for that one time.

He remembered the look on his face, on the fatal day it was all done for, like it was yesterday.

The eighth of May, 1945.

♬ Three Days Grace – I Hate Everything About You ♬

The sky had turned blood-red that day.

The United States of America, the Soviet Union, England and France had been there to see Germany die and be reborn.

The things that happened , the things Germany had done had been terrifying, beyond describtable. The witnesses wouldn't say a word or even talk to each other.

Germany was wounded, burned. Critically. He knew he had to die, that it was all over for him, that everything would come back to him in the end.

He was laying on the ground, covered in blood and bruises, so severe that his face was almost not recognizable, and as if his skin color had turned to violet instead. Left to die by his allies, Italy and Japan. America was completely silent, the Soviet didn't even move, as if nothing would touch him anyway. England was the first to leave. To this day, he frowned upon the defeated nation the most.

Germany had looked into the sky which was nothing but a mirroring of the bloodbath on earth, with his bright blue eyes, oh, those eyes. They were as cold as ice and yet there was a raging fire of hatred burning inside them. His facial expressions were showing no pain, no regret, no emotion at all, except for hatred.

He wasn't going to try and stand up once again for sure, he was awaiting his death.

Unloving. Unbothered.

And he died.

His perishing cold eyes turned into warm dark blue oceans, his hair went from light blond to a dark brown, most of his wounds began to heal, yet some of them remained as scars, carved deeply into his flesh.

Fractures of extreme pain, fear, embarrassment rushed across his face. Now he was sweating, breaking down, screaming, regretting. His ideas and ideologies had driven him insane. He began to feel again, to understand what he did. The human had turned into a monster, and then the monster turned back human. He had learned his lesson, he was no longer a villain.

He became his own victim.

France didn't think for long, he went by his side, held out his arm and offered him his hand. Germany looked him deep in the eyes like a wild animal, as if he didn't understand what his gesture meant. Then he finally reached for his hand. France pulled him back onto his feet.

But at that time, France hated him with a passion. He was convinced Germany was toxic, could never understand what he had done to him, how he simply overtook his property, violated his people, exploited his homeland, turned his back onto him, betrayed him, treated him like an object. France looked him dead in the eye, turned around and left.

For him, it was simply impossible to recognize him as a human and not as a monster. He hated him.

He remembered the times when Germany hurt him, when France was the one laying on the ground, helpless, beaten up, bleeding. Only this was how he knew him. Germany proved him right too often.

It took France years from then to realize once again that Germany was a human being just like him, with pride and decency, needs, understanding and the ability to regret. He could be loving, sensitive and he also had feelings besides hatred, like everyone else. He had just been too rational at times. Turned insecurity into the worst kind of inhuman brutalities. One of his worst traits, sure.

After that, the two of them were suddenly forced to work together to accomplish a mutual goal; which was peace. It didn't work out very well at first. France was convinced he could never forgive such a terrible person and refused to work with him, until they slowly found out they both have a lot more in common than they thought. The very first conversations were still problematic, with France being too fierce and Germany being emotionally numb, but soon they found a way to interact on a neutral basis.

The hostility between them stopped, yet it took more time for actual feelings to slowly develop and grow stronger and stronger. Now they're allies. They spend so much time together, they work as a team, they understand each other, laugh at each other's jokes,.

They're friends.

,,It's been a hundred years.", Germany said.

The rain grew stronger.

\- ,, One day, everything will be ok. I never want you to forget that we're friends now, that I forgive you, I forgive you the wars, the pain, the hate, and I appreciate you. Look at me - yes, you were the villain in our story once, but these times are over. I have forgiven you.",

,, I just - always wonder why I have done these things ...", Germany mumbeled with no tone in his voice.

France stepped next to him and felt immediately overwhelmed with empathy. When their eyes met, he opened his arms in an attempt to offer him some sort of comfort.

Germany, as always, didn't see to understand the friendly gesture at first; France knew he wasn't used to affection and rather saw the other nations as allies, not as friends. He was already overtaxed when France gave him La Bise, for him it was just something normal to greet people with, because he was way more open and affectionate than him.

But something in him shattered.

He slid into his embrace, Germanys heavy body dropped into his arms.

With a melancholic look, France leaned his head onto his over his shoulder and closed his arms around his back, while Germany slowly moved his hands to his ribs. He was shivering a little bit, probably because of the rain.

,,I ... ",

\- ,, It's fine, it's fine ... don't say anything.",

France enjoyed the moment for a few more seconds, the he let go of him, yet kept his hands placed on Germanys shoulders that were soaked wet by now. He had to look at his friend.

Their faces were so close.

,, I said we forgave you. I forgave you. Look at me.",

The rain seemed to get louder.

Germany looked him deep in the eyes, as if he was searching for something that only he could see. France suddenly felt vulnerable. His heartbeat sped up a little, as he gently moved a strand of brown hair from his face. His skin felt so cold. France retorted his look. In his eyes there was nothing but sorrow.

He leaned closer to Germanys face - something overcame him. He smelt his scent, felt his shoulders under the palms of his hands, saw his short wet hair and his dark eyes full of grief in which he was about to drown.

The rain got louder and louder. As well as his heartbeat.

A little more closer ... he could feel his warm breath on his lips.

What am I feeling ...? Where is the aversion for him? After all these years, it must be gone, huh?

,,What are we doing ... What are you doing .. ?",

France closed his eyes.

\- ,, Maybe it's time ... to tell you that ... there is something, I feel -",

Germany grabbed him by his tie and kissed him.


	2. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey fellas !  
> slight warning; this chapter is a little tough. Remember those abuse and violence related tags ? just be responsible for yourself, take care and read and your own risk please!

Both dropped their half smoked cigarettes.

France's hands reached for his neck, pressing his head firmly against his face. All of a sudden, it was a lot warmer. Freezing cold, yet so hot.

Finally.

His fingers were running through his dark wet hair, over his wide shoulders, his back.

Everything he could hear was the rain and his heart hammering against Germany's chest.

The German's lips were demanding, but not rough. It was rather the rain that infringed him.

France played along, no longer fighting his feelings or ignoring the painful twisting in his stomach, kissing and touching him like he had always wanted to. His face flushed red, his heart was beating so loud we was sure Germany could hear it.

It was getting out of hand. Flashes of repressed memories suddenly hurtled through the Frenchman's mind. Germany had touched him countless times before, but not like this. France had always associated his touch with pain and suffering, never with lust, and for a good reason. How come he now wanted to kiss a face he used to loathe so desperately?

But what about me? I haven't been honest to myself either.

There was something between the two nations. It was subtle, silent, voiceless.

Something unspoken, a dark and twisted desire, maybe even a forbidden one. Whenever France looked at him, he couldn't help but remember. Germany had been a monster. How could he let this happen right now? Was it just lust? Desire? Was this ... a kind of love?

Whatever it was – it was about to break free.

Germany pressed his face against the Frenchman's neck and bit his soft skin, leaving bitemarks. His hot breath lent him the warmth France needed. He felt his blood boiling under the wet rain. The rain ... The damn rain made it all worse. He sighed in pleasure, both his arms were tightly wrapped around the German, his fingernails spiraling across his back, trying to get a proper grip.

,,Not here - ", he finally gasped into the freezing air. ,,They'll see us - " he needed to let go of him, even if he didn't want to, so he gently pushed against his chest to get him off of him. ,,Let's go inside.", he indicated at the entry with a quick wave of his head.

Germany let go and understood.

They quickly went inside. Didn't let them be bothered by the other nations, still they made sure no one would see them.

There were small restrooms with beds, big enough for both of them.

Germany locked the door.

France fell onto the sheets, blushing, sweating and gasping for air. Germany began to touch him, made him feel the things he had always wanted him to make him feel. The pain was sharp when their bodies intertwined, when France's fingernails tore Germany's back open, but they had both known pain before. This kind of pain was different. It was lust.

They didn't care about the others, if they had missed them by now or even if they were going to find out. At this point, the two of them had already gone too far. There was no going back now.

The sun was setting. It was getting dark.

1940

France stared at the stone floor in his small cell as the heavy door opened. He didn't dare to move, even if there were no metal handcuffs restraining him to a crouched position on the ground and chafing his wrists sore.

He didn't dare to look into that face.

The man in black approached him with a painful slowness. France knew what was going to happen and he just wanted to get it on. But it wouldn't be over that fast for sure.

Hurry up, bastard. I know what you want. I've been here for days, weeks, ... well, for how long exactly? Too long. I know how to play this game. I know you. I can take more. I'm not gonna give in this time, not again, and if it's only for the sake of you being my obstacle. You.

The man kneeled down infront of him.

,,How are we today?",

France was freezing cold, shaking, bleeding, his clothes torn apart, his hair was a mess, his whole body covered in cuts and bruises.  
He remained silent, eyes pinned to the floor still.

,,A little less talkative than yesterday, hm?",

France could hear the sound of the leather of his uniform tighten around the man's torso as he moved.

,,I'll give you this chance. You can talk to me now, or you face the consequences. It's that easy. So tell me France, where are those riots?",

Silence.

The man let out a sigh. ,,Allright, fine. You have always been very headstrong, haven't you.",

The next thing France felt was a rock hard fist punching against his head.

,,Where are they?", the man asked calmly.

France ignored the throbbing pain on his temple. The anger burning in his throat on the other hand was a little harder to ignore.

A second hit. His vision went blurry.

,,Where are they?",

France let out a sharp breath through his nose.

It hurt, it fucking hurt like hell. The man was extremely strong. It felt like he'd been hit by a boulder instead of a humane force. He couldn't help but feel his heartbeat rise up. He feared for his life whenever he was with him. 

But not this time. This time I won't allow triumph.

A hard kick onto one of his hands. France could hear his own bones breaking. The pain rushed up and down his spine.

,,Where are they?",

France noticed how hard the man was trying to keep his cool. If his temper got out of hand, he would become unpredictable. He smirked to himself in his mind.

I'll make him go mad. It's worth it. It's worth my body, it's worth the pain.

,,I said ... I want to know where these riots are.",

France didn't flinch even though he could hear his own heartbeat pulsating in his ears. If he continuously kept quiet, he'd save a lot of lives of his own people. The riots were still ongoing, there was still hope. There might even be a small chance of fighting back against most of the occupation in his homeland.

Another kick to his jaw, even more harder and violent this time. His heart pounded against his chest. Streams of blood ran from his head and nose. He knew he had almost forced him to trip. He had such a short temper anyway. All that was needed by now was just ... a little ... push.  
France still avoided eye contact, but even though his face was burning and dripping with blood, he managed to twist his chapped lips into a spiteful grin.

Germany dashed forward, hardly grabbed him by his collar, dragged him upright and pressed him up against the concrete wall. 

The entire air was squeezed out of France's lungs. His fast pulse shot waves of adrenaline through his muscles, but his opponent was physically stronger than him. He couldn't fight back. He felt uneasy as they were suddenly close and his immediate reaction was to turn his head away. But he didn't. Instead, he lifted his head and - oh, there, there it was. 

That wild, ice-cold, animalistic spark in his eyes. Like fire.

,,Where the fuck are they?!", Germany yelled. His sharp voice was soaked in pure rage and further triggered France's insticts to flee. But he grinned.  
Something in him had shattered. He was getting out of hand. 

Finally.

Germany quickly lifted his other hand and hit him right onto the mouth as France was pinned in place helplessly. Hard. Another one. Raw. Another one. Blunt.

France was stunned by the loud throbbing that echoed in his head. It seemed to be getting louder from second to second. He could barely focus on anything else. His blood rushed through his veins like electricity. He held himself back in order not to shiver.

Finally, he lifted his head once again to look into Germany's face.

Those eyes. Cold. They're cold like ice.

If there is one, then he's the devil.

Germany hit him again with brute force. France gasped.

Their faces were so close.

His mouth filled up with warm blood.

He endured the moment just a little longer, then spat his blood right into his face and finally let out a malicious laugh. First it was weak, then it grew louder and louder and echoed through the small room.

Germany let him loose of his grip and France dropped to his knees and fell on his side, still laughing like a lunatic and coughing up blood, his body writhing in pain.

France looked at the tall figure dressed in black, into his emotionless eyes and then his face, speckled with his own red source of life, and smiled. Germany looked downright terrifying. He knew his own face had to be a horrible sight as well, with all his blood literally splattered everywhere by now. The only color he saw was red. He felt his body fighting in order to keep him alive. He closed his eyes and let his head sink onto his chest, sighing from exhaustion. 

It was so painful.

Germany stared down at him with glowing eyes, grimacing contemtuously at the scene.

,,Hah ... You know, Allemagne, ... there is something ... that I always wanted to tell you.", he coughed and gasped for air. Everything he could hear was his own heartbeat. He knew he was about to black out. He had lost too much blood.

Germany lifted an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. ,, ... And that would be ?",

France looked at him again and felt his heart racing. As he fell into unconciousness, he forced his mouth to move one last time.

,,I ... hate you.",

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I promise too much? it was surprisingly fun writing this lol and i was totally not inspired by the interrogation scene from the dark knight (i mean it lol i actually wasn't, but now that I've read through this again i see a lot of similarities :D)  
> i am SO thankful for every person reading or even commenting btw. it's incredible for me that my work is being recognized by people who actually care :'D thank you!!!


	3. Allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey fellas !  
> this one got rather short and is a little unconventional, but i'll promise to make the next chapter longer!

I hate you.

I hate you so much.

Just look at you.

You talk so upscale.

Dress so extravagantly.

You strut proud like a rooster.

In love with yourself.

Arrogant.

Lazy.

Certainly no better than myself. And yet ...

I hate you.

Because you get me every time. You get me every damn time.

You read me like an open book. You break me open, you tear down all the walls. And for some reason you are able to illuminate even the darkest parts of myself. You fucking see through me. 

Is it that fucking easy?

You're clever, damn fucker.

Why do you look at me like that? 

Don't you hate me? 

Why are you touching me? Comforting me? Why are you still interested in me? 

Didn't I make sure that you would never dare to speak to me again or even look at me? I thought I was a monster to you, and it should've stayed that way.

Look away. 

Don't come up to me again. 

Don't touch me. 

You are wasting your breath. You are wasting your time.

I don't need you. You don't need me. 

We're no friends. We're just allies. There's just a selfish purpose behind everything you do. It's not about us, it's not about me, it's about you.

So don't pretend. Stop faking what you feel. Because I remember the way you've looked at me every day. Because you've seen those things I did; because I've done things that you will never be able to forget.

And you are right.

I know what hatred feels like. I know reasons to hate. I gave everyone a reason to hate me. I was hurting you, among so many others. And in some form, did I ever stop?

You can hate me. You can loathe me. I allow it. 

Hate me. I beg you. There is no mercy for me this time.

And at the same time it could give me a reason to loathe you.

I can't comprehend the things you do. You're not known best for your forgiveness. You've hurt me in different ways. Ways that are incomparable to what I did to you. 

I hate you.

And yet ...

I crave you.

I crave you so much.

We're not friends, we're just allies.

Because everything you do is just for your own profit. It's not about me, it's not about us, it's about you.

You're cold.

But now you eye me like this.

What's that silly face of yours?

I ...

I am insane.

I don't remember how we ended up like this. But I remember ...

... that i wanted this.

I hate you, oh, I fucking hate you.

You're a brute.

You're an animal.

You're the worst

There's blood on your hands. There's blood everywhere.

You are a monster.

You've always been.

You'll never change.

... or will you?

Will you change for me?

Have you changed for me? Have you ever considered changing for anyone? Can you love? Can you feel? Why are you always so cold? Why do you keep pushing me away? 

Oh Allemagne.

I've seen you do terrible things.

And yet...

I want you.

I fucking want you.

Those hands around my neck, hands that have driven blades through bloody flesh.

Those lips on top of mine, lips that have lied and spit on me.

Those ice cold eyes piercing me ...

He has the devils' eyes.

I can't believe it myself, but I want you.

And I can barely admit it, but it's true.

I have truly gone insane.

Just like you..

Hah...

What have we come to, old friend?

Is it love?

You look at me confused, and I have no answers to your questions. I don't know why I couldn't push myself to hate you. 

I just can't-

I gave you permission again. You can enter my life. My thoughts. My feelings. 

Even my body.

You can hurt me again. But will you this time?

I know you're a broken man.

You're so, so broken, Allemagne, you're broken.

And yet I crave you.

I crave you so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for actually reading this crap if you came this far, it actually means a lot to me :')  
> I don't really know where this is going in the future, but I have been VERY invested in their relationship for years now so I'm definetly working on something somewhere, somehow.  
> You can even check out my art about them on instagram; @felicitasmadelinegothermore !  
> once again, thanks! If you're confused about something, please let me now and I'll try to explain :)


End file.
